


Echoes of Destiny

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It starts with a book, ends with a revelation, and in between there’s a conversation with God. Just another day in the life of the Brothers Winchester.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[**fannishliss**](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://deancastiel.livejournal.com/)**deancastiel** Secret Angels III exchange.

He found the ritual by chance, while looking for a completely different book Bobby had mentioned that supposedly dealt with the raising of Pestilence. The ritual was in an obscure little text, shoved half behind the shelf Sam was perusing. It looked as though it had seen better days. The cover was worn and almost illegible, with pages torn and yellowed. He would have tossed it aside without ever thinking twice about it except when he flipped briefly through it, there was a drawing of an angel, and his curiosity, always insatiable, had gotten the best of him.

Now he was watching Castiel flip through the pages, gauging him for any sort of reaction. Castiel's face stayed stubbornly blank, but his eyes were almost feverish in their intensity. “I didn't know what to think,” Sam said. “I mean, I could barely understand it, most of the archaic Latin threw me. But it looked like what you've been searching for...a way to locate God. Better still, a way to bring him here.”

Castiel studied the text in silence for a moment longer before fixing his impenetrable gaze on Sam. “The ritual seems viable,” he said, his tone both disbelieving and cautiously hopeful. “However, there are parts that could prove to be problematic, or downright distasteful to those who become involved.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, practically vibrating with pent-up excitement. Surely anything would be worth it? Worth _finding God_ , if he was in fact still alive as Castiel so desperately wanted to believe.

Laying the book on the table between them, Castiel pointed to one section near the beginning of the passage. “This describes the first part. It involves ritual bloodletting.” He paused, his gaze once again finding and holding Sam’s. “The book is very specific. Three beings _must_ be involved with the ritual: a child of Earth, a child of Heaven, and a child of Hell. Three types of blood, all given willingly.”

Sam’s eyes shuttered. “A human, an angel, and a demon. That’s all but impossible. What demon would agree to bring about the presence of God?”

“In other circumstances, no demon or angel would agree to this. These, however, are circumstances far from normal.” Castiel paused again. “I believe the demon blood fed to you in your infancy would be sufficient to allow you to complete that part of the ritual.”

Jaw clenching, Sam stared hard at the book. “Meaning that in the eyes of the ritual, I’m no better than a demon myself. Spectacular.”

“Sam.” Castiel’s hand covered his where it rested on the table, the touch only lasting briefly, but long enough to offer comfort. “Circumstances are what they are, and if they can be used to our advantage, there is nothing wrong with that. This is a _good thing_ , if we decide to go through with this ritual. You are no demon, Sam Winchester, and those of us who know you, know that.”

Sam sighed. “I know. Sorry, it’s just not exactly my favorite subject.” He cleared his throat. “So, what else is going to be a problem?”

Castiel looked uncomfortable as he flipped a page and indicated to another section. “This is the part of the ritual I feel will present the biggest problem.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Sam’s eyebrow rose. “The book refers to each person involved in the ritual as an ‘element’. Apparently, the angelic element and the human element must…come together, in order to bring about the presence of God in the demonic element.”

The other eyebrow went up. “I don’t know what to comment on first,” Sam said, more than a little incredulous, his mind racing. “By…’come together’, you mean…?”

Flushing, Castiel looked away. “By all appearances, the two elements must engage in sexual intercourse.”

Trying not to gape, Sam tried to wrap his brain around the concept, and very quickly decided he didn’t actually want to. “Why would a ritual to locate God require something so…blasphemous? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I am unsure,” Castiel replied, shaking his head. “This is very old, older even than myself. That you found it at all…” He trailed off, tilting his head and looking thoughtful. “I don’t even know how it’s possible that this exists in any text still here on this earth.”

Sam stared hard at the book, contemplating that, before deciding to tackle the last big question he had. Because really, thinking about his brother and Castiel ‘coming together’ was bound to break his brain. So, hesitantly, he asked, “What did you mean by bringing the presence of God out in the demonic element?”

“The text does not specify what the phrase means, Sam,” Castiel replied after a long moment. “Though it would imply that your body would be used to house whatever presence we called upon during the ritual, until we no longer needed it. Or…Him. But truly…I cannot be sure.”

“So it could kill me as easily as anything,” Sam said quietly.

Reluctantly, Castiel nodded. “Yes. But…I do not believe that to be the case. All three elements must give their blood willingly. It implies an alliance between the three, a partnership at the very least. And the ritual is not a violent one. I can’t imagine it would require a sacrifice of that magnitude, especially as the blood itself already serves as a sacrifice of sorts.”

Sam nodded, deep in thought. Were they completely insane, to even think about doing this? Probably. But, Jesus, it was the first really promising thing they’d come across since Castiel started his search. It was the first hope they’d been given in _months_.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure Dean was going to see it that way.

  
**~**   


Dean stared first at his brother, and then at his angel, his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide. “You can’t be serious,” he finally managed to say.

“I assure you, Dean, we would not bring something like this to your attention of we were not serious,” Castiel said. His eyes were downcast and he looked flushed. Dean would maybe have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t being completely insane right at that moment.

“Cas, we’re talking about sex,” he said, waving his arms a little wildly.

“I know what it is we are discussing. Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not entirely naïve in these matters.” Castiel’s eyes had swung up, and now he was glaring outright at Dean, and Dean thought that was just a little unfair.

“We’re talking about sex between _me and you_. You can’t be okay with that!” He saw Sam shift uncomfortably and open his mouth to speak, and he fixed his gaze on him. “Nuh uh, you’re staying right there, Sammy. We haven’t even gotten to how pissed off I am that you’re ready to just jump in there and sacrifice yourself.”

Sam’s expression morphed into a much more familiar bitch-face. “Dean, there’s no proof that the ritual will harm me at all. In fact, it seems pretty unlikely, and even if it wasn’t, this is _still_ the best chance we have! How much longer do you think Lucifer’s going to wait before striking harder someplace else? We need to try and end this now, and so far, this is the only thing we’ve been able to find at all that could help!”

Dean’s jaw was clenched, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a suitable argument. “There has to be something else.”

Sam shook his head. “There’s not. At least, not here, and not anywhere we could ever get easy access to.” He sighed. “Look, I’m going to go call Bobby, see what he thinks. Especially since we’re using _his_ house to do this while he’s gone. You two…talk. Or something.”

Dean watched him walk out with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched, and didn’t try to stop him. His eyes found Castiel’s, and the angel looked twelve kinds of uncomfortable.

“Dean, I understand if you find the ritual…distasteful,” Castiel said, his gaze unwavering though he still looked vastly ill at ease. “It was only an option Sam found, and came to me with for an opinion. We can and will find another way if we must.”

Dean sighed, looking away for a moment. “Right, and how long will that take?” he asked, frustration evident in his voice. “You’ve been searching for months, Cas. Months. We probably don’t have that much longer before Lucifer really buckles down, Sam’s right about that. He’s raising the Horsemen now, and once that’s done…”

Castiel shifted. “Before you make a final decision, there is something else you will want to know about the ritual. You won’t like it.”

Dean’s eyes closed. “I _already_ don’t like it,” he muttered. “All right. Lay it on me.”

Castiel was silent for so long that Dean started to wonder if he was going to answer at all. Green eyes settled on blue, and Castiel dragged in a breath. “For the…uniting of the elements…” He swallowed. “For the part of the ritual that you and I must enact alone, you will need to be…bound.”

Dean laughed once, harshly. “Better and better all the time,” he grated. “And Sam, of course, will be there the whole time, right?”

“He will fall into a sort of trance-like state before the second part of the ritual begins. He will be aware of nothing until God is called upon.” Castiel seemed very sure of this, and it made Dean feel a very, very tiny bit better. This whole thing was insane, but would have been a lot worse if he’d been expected to be on display for his goddamn brother as well.

Nodding, Dean released another sigh, eyes clouded with indecision. “I just… I mean, Jesus, Cas, you don’t even…”

Castiel tilted his head. “Are you unsure of this because you believe I will be too uncomfortable to complete this part of the ritual?”

Dean gazed at him. “Well, won’t you?” he finally asked. “I mean, we both know you don’t have much in the way of experience.”

“If I did, I would be unable to be a part of this, so we should count our blessings for that,” Castiel said, and Dean twitched a little.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Damn thing requires virginity as well? You didn’t mention that before.”

“This whole ritual is based on the condition of absolute trust. The demonic element must have absolute trust that the others will not betray him while he is unaware, and he must trust in whatever divine element is summoned into him. The human element must have absolute trust in the angelic to protect him, in all things, which is why the bindings are required - they are a symbol of that trust. And the angelic element…” He paused, sighing a little. “I must have absolute trust that what I am sacrificing my purity for is a worthwhile cause.” His eyes found Dean’s again. “A worthwhile person.”

It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room, all of a sudden. Dean’s breath stuttered, and his heart jumped and began to pound, but he’d be hard-pressed to understand either reaction. “Oh,” was all he could think to say, but he kept his eyes rooted to Castiel’s, and they gazed at each other for long moments, on the brink of something neither truly understood.

Sam chose that moment to reappear, and the tension between them snapped, jolting Dean with the recoil as his gaze whipped to his brother. Sam seemed oblivious, still holding his cell phone and flipping through the book again. Without looking up, he said, “So Bobby doesn’t even recognize the name of the book, but he compared the ritual to others he’s seen that are similar, although used to bring in different forces of course, and he said it sounds like the real deal.” He lifted his eyes to Dean’s, didn’t even try for a smile, though he was still practically burning with hope. “So…what do you think?”

Dean looked back to Castiel, who nodded solemnly, and he released a breath, curling his hand into a loose fist because he couldn’t think of anything else to do. “I think we’re gonna give it a shot,” he said, and tried desperately to calm his still rapidly-beating heart.

  
**~**   


Sam wasn’t oblivious to the new tension between Dean and Castiel, but he had been ignoring it. Dean wouldn’t have appreciated his views anyway, and the preparations for the ritual had required complete focus.

But now, seated in a circle of candles in the panic room, sitting opposite his brother and the angel, it was impossible to miss. Something shimmered between them, some bond that had always been there, but that had steadily been getting stronger and more unbreakable with every day. It was pulled taught now, and judging by the looks they kept throwing each other and the silence between them that was practically deafening, they weren’t unaware of it either.

Sam looked down, took a breath. “Are we ready?” he asked after a minute. Candlelight flickered over Castiel’s face when he looked back up.

The angel nodded, picked up the knife that lay in front of him. Between them, in the center of the circle, was a wooden chalice. Castiel knelt before it, eyes closed. As he brought the knife to his palm, he whispered the words he needed to say in Latin. Sam translated them in his head out of habit: _Blood of Heaven, I give freely and with faith._ He sliced deep, the blood welling immediately and dripping into the chalice. Castiel gazed at it, his face blank, until there was enough and he finally pulled away. He could not use his powers while in the circle, unsure if it would disrupt the power of the ritual, so he wrapped his hand with a length of gauze and silently passed the blade to Dean as he sat back.

Sam watched the hesitation pass over his brother’s face, but it cleared quickly, and Dean was as steady as ever when he murmured the words Castiel had taught him to say. _Blood of the Earth, I give freely and with hope._ He took a breath and sliced quickly, mixing his blood with Castiel’s. Sam wasn’t sure if he was imagining the glow forming around the chalice, but the others didn’t mention it, so he ignored it as well. Dean’s eyes were dark and unsure as he handed the knife to Sam and went back to his spot by Castiel, wrapping his hand quickly and efficiently.

The blade felt heavy in his hands as Sam knelt by the chalice, staring at the dark liquid inside. He steadied himself as much as he could. There was no going back, not when they’d come this far, and he refused to give in to the fear trying to take over now. His voice was clear when he spoke. _Blood of Hell, I give freely and with trust._ Before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed the blade to his palm, cut deep. The pain helped steady him more than he had managed on his own, and he tilted his hand, watched the blood mix. There was a definite glow now, growing steadily brighter. He glanced at Castiel, and at the angel’s nod, pulled away and sat back, taking the gauze from his own pocket to wrap his hand while the room continued to be lit with that ethereal radiance.

Dean was staring warily at the chalice, and Castiel was gazing at it wide-eyed, but all three were forced to shield their eyes quickly when the light suddenly _exploded_ outward, washing over them, washing into them. For a long moment, all Sam was aware of was fire that didn’t burn, and a voice that didn’t speak, and then…

…darkness.

  
**~**   


Dean was blind.

He was trying not to panic, but he was blinking his eyes open and there was nothing except empty darkness, and yeah, he had a problem with that because if that had been some sort of holy light, then what if his eyes were gone? There was no pain, but that didn’t always mean anything, and if he was blind then –

“Dean. Dean!” A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and Castiel’s voice was in his ear. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

“Cas?” he said, hating the way his voice shook. “I can’t see anything. What –“

“I believe it’s an effect of the ritual, nothing more,” the angel said softly. “Another symbol of the trust you must have in me. I’m sorry, had I known, I would have given you warning.”

Dean took a few deep breaths, tried to get his bearings. “S’okay. Sam? Is he…?”

“He is fine. Sleeping, waiting for the ritual to be complete. He won’t wake until it’s done now.”

Castiel’s breath was warm next to his ear, and Dean shivered a little. “And you’re okay?”

“I am fine, Dean,” Castiel replied. There was a long pause, a rustle of fabric as he shifted. “Do you trust me?”

Dean’s breath caught, his heart pounding. There was no hesitation when he replied, “Yes.”

Another soft sound, a hand against his face, and then Castiel’s lips pressed to his own, softly coaxing, a gentle tongue licking its way into his mouth, and he made some sort of sound as he reached out, clutched the angel closer.

Castiel’s hands moved to his waist and he shifted into Dean’s lap, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. Dean pulled away and allowed him to take it off, but before he could move back in, Castiel grasped his wrists and leaned in, bringing them behind Dean’s back. He swallowed, barely breathing as he felt the length of rope against his skin. Castiel tied it deftly, tight enough that he couldn’t escape without some effort, loose enough that he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“You’re trembling,” Castiel noted when he pulled back.

“Not a lot of good experiences being tied up,” Dean said, exhaling noisily. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll take care of you.” It was a promise, and Dean believed him. Castiel had always taken care of him, even when Dean hadn’t wanted him to. “Let me take care of you, Dean.” And then Dean was wrapped in a strong embrace, Castiel plundering his mouth, his hard length pressing against Dean’s own.

Something was affecting the angel, and Dean found himself wondering if that too was a part of the light that had burned through all of them. Castiel moved slowly, but with a quiet confidence Dean was sure he never would have felt otherwise. He removed the rest of Dean’s clothing, spread the hunter out on his stomach against the blankets they’d had the foresight to bring into the circle with them. Every move he made, every kiss he bestowed left Dean breathless and wanting more. There was no room for uncertainty, no hesitation in either of them now.

When Castiel pressed into him with an oil-slicked finger, Dean moaned, arching his back, trying to get more, deeper. It was disconcerting to not be able to see, to have no control over their actions, but this was Cas, and the angel clearly knew what he was doing despite a lack of experience. Another finger, and Dean forgot all about rituals, about God and the Apocalypse and Sam lying only a few feet away. He just _wanted_ , more, _anything_. “Cas!” he cried as the angel pressed in a third finger, went deeper, hit just right.

His other hand stroked a line up Dean’s spine and he shushed him softly. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“ _Please_ , Cas,” he breathed.

There was a moment of shifting, of Castiel pulling his hand out, and the sound of slicking himself up, and then he was grasping Dean’s hips, lifting him and pushing in in one long slide. Dean shuddered out a breath, allowed his muscles to relax as Castiel pulled partway out and then shoved back in. Lost himself in the rhythm the angel created, and pushed back into every stroke. His face was mashed up against the blanket, but he wasn’t uncomfortable, too caught up in what Castiel was doing to care.

The angle changed, and Castiel went deeper. Dean bucked up into it, begging almost incoherently for the angel to touch him, _please_ , and he could have wept in relief when Castiel listened and one hand slid around to grasp his cock, jacking him in sync to his thrusts.

They came together, both crying out, and white light suddenly flooded Dean’s previously darkened vision as he gasped and trembled his way through orgasm, made even better by the feel of Castiel’s seed inside him.

Castiel’s hands were shaking as he pulled out and they went to the bindings on Dean’s wrists. It took him a few tries to get the knots undone, and then he was pulling the rope off, turning Dean and pressing against him, kissing him, _claiming_ him with lips and teeth and touch. More desperate for _this_ than he’d been the entire time he’d been inside Dean.

“Have to finish,” Dean gasped, pulling away after a long moment, staring into Castiel’s eyes, watching the candlelight dance in them. “We have to finish.”

Castiel leaned his forehead against Dean’s, his eyes closed as he fought for control. “You’re right,” he finally said. “Dean…”

“We’ll talk later,” Dean promised. “When this is done.”

Standing abruptly and turning away with a nod, Castiel picked up the chalice and knelt beside Sam. He dipped a finger in and brought it to Sam’s forehead, painting an uncomplicated sigil with the mixed blood. It was as he drew the last line that the ground began to shake.

  
**~**   


Sam came awake with a sharp gasp, his body arching as light poured into him, filling him, burning him from the inside and leaving nothing unchanged as it did. He wanted to thrash, wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t even take a breath. Everything was just white radiance and fiery intensity and he knew – _knew_ – that this had to be the end, that he must be dying.

__  
**Calm yourself, Samuel.**   


The voice was in his head, _all around him_ , and it was Purity and Radiance, Wisdom and Love, Peace and Tranquility. It was _Divinity_ , and it was beautiful.

 _Are you…God?_ Sam asked.

Gentle amusement and a wave of affection rolled through him. _**I am indeed the one who you know as God. I am glad to meet you, Samuel Winchester.**_

_It’s…good to meet you too._

“Sam? Sam!”

It came to Sam slowly that he was sitting up now, blinking around the room, though it wasn’t him in control. Dean was crouched in front of him, and Sam thought it should bother him more that his brother was naked. There was a swell of laughter in his head, as musical as it was powerful, and with a thought from the being within his body, Dean was clothed.

The elder Winchester blinked, looked down at himself. Then back up into Sam’s eyes. He stood and took a step back, bumping into Castiel, who was also staring with wide eyes.

“Father,” the angel said, his tone both awed and fearful.

“My son,” God said through Sam, pushing himself to his feet, unfolding the body he wore to its full extent, standing straight and tall. “It is good to see you, Castiel.” His eyes flicked to Dean. “And Dean Winchester. You have caused Heaven no small amount of grief, I hear.”

“You…hear,” Dean said slowly. Rage kindled in his eyes. “You hear? Where the hell have you _been?_ ”

 _Please don’t smite him_ , Sam begged, though the only thing he could feel coming from God was that same amusement and a trickle of pride in the human standing before him.

 _ **I shall do no such thing, you need not fear for him,**_ he was assured. To Dean, God said, “Yes, I hear. I hear all the prayers of all my children. But it is not for me to end this war, my son. Fate must play out as it is meant to.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean growled, and Sam winced internally. “Your kids are out there wreaking havoc on this planet, and you’re just gonna stand there and _let it happen?_ ”

“I did not say that. Only that I cannot end it directly. I cannot _interfere_ directly. But there are ways I can help, if you will allow it.”

Dean stood gaping, his mouth opening and closing as words tried to escape and he fought to stop them. “You…but…you…and I…” He swallowed when Castiel rested a hand on his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Any help you can give would be greatly appreciated.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but there was sincerity as well, and Sam mentally congratulated his brother.

God nodded. “I cannot offer you much, but I will give each of you a gift you seek.” His eyes – Sam’s eyes – went to Castiel and he stepped toward him. The angel flinched, and a wave of deep sadness crashed over Sam, sadness that was not his own. “Oh, my son, what have they done to you?”

“Father, I –”

“Shh, it’s all right, Castiel.” Sam’s hand lifted and God touched Castiel’s forehead. “I have not forgotten you, my most faithful son. You have more than proven your worth, and whatever the outcome of this war, whatever you choose afterward, your place in Heaven is assured.” Light surrounded Castiel, sank into him and then exploded back out, and he inhaled sharply. Wings of brilliant light spilled from his back, radiant and beautiful, and Sam saw Dean look at him, saw him look at an angel’s true form for the first time, and saw him undamaged by it. The look in Dean’s eyes was pure wonder, and both Sam and God smiled at the sight.

God turned next to Dean, as Castiel struggled to reign in his restored grace. He waved a hand, and was suddenly holding a sword that glowed with the light of Heaven. Flames of illumination licked at the blade, and Dean’s eyes went wide. “You, Dean, would accept nothing less than a weapon, and so I bestow on you the sword of an archangel. There is none other like it in all of Creation, and it is the best chance you have. This is perhaps more than I should offer, and I hope you find you do not need to wield it. But should the time come when you are left with no choice, use it well.”

Dean took the sword with a trembling hand, staring in amazement as the light intensified, as the flames flared outward but did not burn him. He expertly hefted it, swung it in a practiced move, and couldn’t stop a breathless laugh from escaping. God smiled again, indulgently.

“And to Sam?” Castiel asked, his eyes finding Dean’s when the hunter turned back abruptly.

 _I don’t need anything,_ Sam said, meaning it. _Just knowing you’re out there, that you do care…that’s enough._

 _ **The truth is that you do not believe you deserve anything,**_ the one who was all-knowing said, and Sam couldn’t stop the wave of shame. _**And so to you, dear Samuel, I give the one gift you would never ask for, though you so desperately crave it. I give you redemption.**_ To the others who stood waiting avidly for an answer, he nodded. “When I took this body as a vessel, it burned away all the impurities. The blood of the demon Azazel, and the traces left behind from others, is gone. Samuel is pure once again, and fully human.”

There were no words Sam could say, nothing he could offer as thanks, and his spirit trembled with the force of his gratitude.

__  
**I do not need your words, or your thanks. It is I who owe you my gratitude, for all you have done to protect this world.**   


“Why now?” Dean asked. When God looked to him, he flushed a little. “I mean, not that I’m not grateful for this -” indicating the sword, “- and for Cas getting his mojo back and for Sammy…but you could have come to us at any time, with or without the ritual.”

God nodded. “You are correct. But as long as the world was in chaos as it was, as long as there was fighting amongst my children and no hope for an agreement to be reached, I could not interfere at all. In all of the millennia this ritual has existed, never before have the terms been met adequately. No angel, demon, or human, in any combination, could ever work together in friendship, and yet you do. No angel, demon, or human could ever come together in love, and yet you do. No angel, demon or human could ever trust the other with all that they are…and yet you do. That. That was enough. _More_ than enough. You three are what I wish for the world with every breath I take, every word I say. You are my hope, and my joy.”

Dean had swallowed hard at the word _love_ , but he bowed his head in embarrassed acknowledgement, and Castiel squeezed his shoulder again and nodded to God. “Thank you, Father,” he whispered.

“Thank _you_ , Castiel. I must depart, before my presence is detected here. But know that I am always watching, and that I love you very deeply. All of you.”

And then He was gone, before any of them can say another word, flowing away until Sam fell to his knees and gasped brokenly as his body adjusted to simple humanity again.

In more ways than one.

When he looked up, Dean was kneeling in front of him, and when their eyes met, his brother reached out and tugged him into a hard embrace, no word necessary for him to tell Sam of how grateful he was that Sam was okay, that they were all okay.

  
**~**   


Later, Castiel found Dean outside where he was leaning against the Impala, drinking a beer and staring up at the night sky. The angel stood next to him, leaning back against the cool metal and searching the stars for whatever answers Dean might be looking for.

“Kinda hard to believe God’s actually rooting for Team Free Will,” Dean said after a few minutes, taking a long swig from the bottle he held.

“Not so surprising,” Castiel murmured.

Dean glanced over at him, a corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “You never lost faith, not once.”

Castiel shrugged a little. “I came close many times.” His eyes slanted over to Dean’s. “You never allowed me to.”

Dean flushed. “One of us had to have hope,” he said. “It wasn’t gonna be me, so that left you.”

Castiel was silent for another long moment, and Dean downed the rest of his beer, was grateful to have done so when Castiel finally spoke again. “Dean, about earlier…”

“Don’t suppose we can just chalk that up to the ritual and the heat of the moment, huh?” Dean asked quietly.

The angel turned to face him fully. “What my father said…”

“Oh man Cas, you really wanna make this into a chick-flick moment, don’t you?” Dean groaned. He tried to hide his grin.

“Dean…”

“I love you, too.” It was a whisper, but he knew Castiel heard him when those blue eyes flew to his and locked on, searching. He rolled his own eyes a little, reached out and tugged Castiel closer to him. The angel went willingly, one hand finding Dean’s hip, the other sliding under the sleeve of his t-shirt and going to the mark Dean bore on his arm. At the brush of fingers on the handprint scar, Dean’s eyes darkened and he trembled a little, a jolt of _Cas_ and _please_ and _love you_ shooting down his spine, and Castiel jerked as though he heard the words spoken aloud.

“Dean…” he said again, the only thing he seemed capable of saying.

“Don’t say it yet,” Dean said. “I know, okay? I know, and I’m right there with you, but…don’t say it. Not until we win.”

Castiel’s eyes were soft, his smile wide. “When we win?”

Dean nodded once, firmly. “ _When_ we win. I’m counting on it.”

“All right then,” Castiel agreed, easing forward until he was breathing the same air as Dean. “When we win.”

When Castiel kissed him, it was with everything he didn’t say, and Dean heard it as loudly as he ever would with the words spoken aloud.

-  



End file.
